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Chapter Thirty-Eight
“It may behard to believe, since you think the world revolves around you, but as much as you want to make this all about you, it’s not,” I yell at Frankie, hot on her heels. She doesn’t understand what this is all about. She doesn’t understand what needs to be done in order to set things right. She has a right to be frustrated, but that doesn’t make the guilt or anger I’m feeling any easier to choke down.
“Then, who is it about?” she asks, spinning around to face me. We’re in the kitchen now. Her back is against the counter. “Because the last time I checked, I’m the only one here being held against her will. So, tell me, Smoke. Who the hell else could this all be about?”
I grab her by the shoulders. “It’s about my kid!” I blurt.
Frankie’s jaw drops open. She doesn’t speak, just stares at me in disbelief. She’s squinting at me as if she can’t quite see me even though I’m right in front of her.
See me, Frankie. Please. See me.
“What?” she finally asks in a whisper.
It’s the last shit in the world I want to tell anyone, never mind Frankie, but I
can’t keep it from her anymore. The hurt written on her face is strangling me from the inside. I’m twisted up. Telling her won’t change anything, but maybe, it can change the look of betrayal in her eyes.
The look I’ve put there.
The world has stopped spinning. It’s just me and this beautiful angry girl staring at one another like we’re either about to fuck or claw each other’s eyes out.
Maybe, both.
Who can blame us. We’re supposed to be on opposite sides, but things have changed.
The only side I want to be on is hers
Mind. Soul. Body.
Her pain is my pain, and I’m fucking drowning in it.
“Your what?” she asks again, louder this time as if maybe she didn’t hear me correctly. Although from the surprised look on her face and the way her eyebrows unfurrow, I know she has.
I lift her up by the waist, propping her up on the counter. I maneuver myself between her legs for two reasons. One, because I need to be touching her while I tell her what I’m about to tell her, and two, because I need to keep her in place so she won’t run away on me again. I need her to stay and listen to every word I’m about to say.
It’s that fucking important.
“Morgan,” I start, feeling my throat tighten. “She was…a friend of mine. Well, I guess more than a friend. She was in the business, too, mostly tech stuff. Occasionally, she helped me out. She didn’t love me. I didn’t love her, but we trusted each other, and trust was better. At least, to us it was.”
I cringe when I come to the part of the story I’ve never said out loud before.
“Keep going,” Frankie urges me on. She lightly grabs hold of my bicep, and every time she does something to comfort me I feel like I’m both living for the first time and dying a slow motherfucking death.
I clear my throat. “I was away working clear across the country for several months. I go dark when I’m working certain jobs. No phone. No Internet. No communication with the outside world at all.”
She nods against my chest, and I cradle the back of her head with my hand, threading my fingers through her hair.
“When I got back, I went to see Morgan, but she…” I feel my fingers tighten around Frankie’s hair as the images of what I found in the house flash through my brain like a twisted picture show. “She was...”
“But she wasn’t alive,” Frankie finishes for me.
I nod slowly. “No, she wasn’t. Far from it. There was nothing in her house but smeared blood. More blood than I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen my fair share. I had to look closer to realize what had really happened.”
I nod and wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to the edge of the counter so I can press her soft body against me. I think she’s going to fight me, but she sighs into my chest instead. I rest my chin on the top of her head and breathe her in.
“What really happened?” Frankie asks.
“Morgan. She was pregnant. I didn’t know. We hadn’t spoken in months. I was away. That’s why there was so much blood. She was hacked to pieces. Every inch of her.”
“Oh my God.” Frankie gasps. “Why? Why on earth would someone do that?” She’s sobbing against my chest. I’m now comforting her. Holding her.
I don’t tell her it happened because the world is an evil place because I’ve committed my fair share of evil. I don’t tell her it’s my fault for getting close to Morgan when I shouldn’t have. Her attachment to me was a risk I shouldn’t have let her take. It made her a target.
“The baby…it was yours, wasn’t it?”
I nod again, unable to say the words out loud. I reach into my wallet and hand Frankie the blood-soaked letter I found at Morgan’s house under her body.
Frankie unfolds it slowly like it’s something delicate that can be broken easily and not a creased piece of torn notebook paper. Her lips move as she reads it to herself. I don’t even have to carry it with me anymore. I’ve read it a thousand times. I know exactly what it says, having memorized every word.
You,
I don’t know why I’m writing this since I expect you back soon. I guess I’m writing it more to myself since I’ll probably see you before I can give this to you. But just in case I can’t find the words, this will be my backup.
You should know that I look like I’ve swallowed the entire Golden West buffet, but I love it. I love being pregnant. Truth is that I’ve always wanted to be a mum. For the first time in a long time, I’m excited about what the future will bring, and this child of ours is the best reason I could ever have to start a new life.
I’m leaving this life. I’m going someplace safe where I can raise this most beautiful and welcome mistake. I’ve got some money saved. I’m going to leave the state and buy a house somewhere in the suburbs on a tree lined street in a town with more than one stop-light. Who knows, maybe I’ll be one of those suburban mums who wears tennis skirts every day but don’t play a lick of tennis. You know, the kind who brag about the tech in their new mini vans and who complain about the misspelling of their names on their coffee cups at Starbucks. Of course, mine will be a teacup. I am British after all.
In all seriousness, I find myself very ready for this new adventure. A new challenge. You know me, I can do just fine on my own. I’ve been doing it my entire life. However, you can be a part of this is you want. I don’t expect or want us to be an actual couple. You and I are far too realistic for something like that. But we can be good friends and attempt to be good parents. At the very least, better than either of us had. Although that bar has been set pretty low as it is.
Whatever you decide is fine with me. Just know that there’s no halfway. Not with this. I won’t risk it. I can’t. You have to be out of the life to be in our lives.
I’ll give you some time to think about it. It’s only fair since I’ve had months to ponder all of this, and you’re just now finding out. You’re probably still doing that angry eyebrow thing you do when you’re thinking over something. I’m quite sure of it. Don’t give yourself wrinkles, old man. If you decide to come with us, I’m sure the two of us will give you our own fair share.
-Me
Frankie
“Holy shit,” I say, piecing together the connection between the security video Nine and I found and the story Smoke is telling me. My heart breaks for him. For Morgan. I feel a depth of despair I’ve never felt before and an overwhelming need to take it away from his heavy eyes. I sniffle and get my tears under control.
“This right here,” Smoke says, taking the letter from my hands and folding it back up. He tucks it into his back pocket. “It’s why nothing changes.”
“I still don’t understand the connection. What does this letter have to do with me? With my father?”
